A Last Dance With You
by Hydra no Mago
Summary: By hook or by crook, Alfred F. Jones will get his last dance with Arthur Kirkland. (Angst waring. Mainly fluff. USUK / AlfredXArthur. Hetalia Human AU.)


**A Last Dance With You**

Today was the day. Looking in the mirror, I straightened myself up over and over again, trying to make myself look the best as I could possibly be.

The dark blue suit which Francis had coaxed me to wear was a great choice, it brought out the sky blue colour in my eyes and made me look sleek, professional, important, and most of all a knockout hunk. With much difficulty of an amateur in a suit, I adjusted the cufflinks, pulled on my collar, tightened my electric blue silk tie (had to get someone to tie it for me though), slipped on a belt and tried in vain to slick my hair back. Sometimes I really hated my cowlick. It loves to go against the rules, defying gravity at all times.

_Isn't that just like you buddy? Bein' a rule breaker man. _

The corners of my mouth had begun to pull down at the thought but I quickly shook it away. I sat in front of the mirror, staring intently at myself. I inhaled. "Okay dude, you can do this. It's _the_ most important event of your life and you're not gonna mess it up tonight! No matter how much it hurts to just think about the inevitable." I exhaled, looking at my reflection. The suit was nice, so were the pinchy loafers and the sticky hair gel. The only thing that ruined the picture was me.

I had a black eye, split lip and bruised knuckles when I wrung them together. My complexion was a bit pasty under my naturally tanned skin and my hands couldn't stop sweating. I wiped them on my pants leg repeatedly. Those were not wrinkles on my neck, they were scars from being cut by a knife or blade or cookie cutter or shovel or anything sharp in general. It's not nice to make too many enemies in here.

A quick, nervous glance to the antique clock hanging on the grimy wall showed that it was almost seven in the evening, almost time until he appeared. I let out another shaky exhale in a bid to calm my nerves which were getting bundled up in knots. The butterflies in my stomach weren't flattened no matter how much force I put into squashing them.

"Yer okay there, Alfred? Yer'll be makin some waves toanigh!" exclaimed my roommate, Migeul, from his bed. Can't really remember if the dude's Portuguese or Spanish or Finnish or a mix of them all. He had dark hair tied into a short ponytail, fair eyes, tanned skin and friggin ripped. He was twice the size I was.

I nodded politely in his direction, careful not to ruin my face further for the date. "Yeah man. J-Just got a case of the j-jitters, ya know?" I said, trying to find my voice back. I must've sounded pathetic. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did.

Migeul chortled into his fist, clearly amused. "Come on Alfred! Man up!" he shouted, deftly avoiding my poisonous glare sent his way. "Ya'll pansies if yer fail to make yerself feel good befo' meetin ya partner."

"Migeul, ya know it's important to me dude. This night, it's my last chance to make things right." My hand had unconsciously moved to cover my mouth, a habit I picked up from him.

The burly roommate of mine pushed himself out of his bed swiftly and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don cha' worry mate. Evry thin'll be A-Okay. Ya got me?"

In a place like this, we relied on each other, and Miguel was a person worth relying on. I sent him a smile, one of the last few he'll see from me. "I gotcha man, I gotcha."

As he patted me once more, the alarm beeped and one of them announced my name.

* * *

Usually, the room was cold and dingy, decorated with spider webs in the ceiling, moss carpeting the floor and mildew in the corners. Today though, they went all out to make this place clean again. The table and chairs were moved away, the floor was so clean you could literally lick off it, ceiling was decorated with ribbons, streamers and a few scattered balloons were placed haphazardly in the small room. There was an old-looking radio in the corner, waiting to be used.

However, what caught my attention the most was the person standing in the middle of it all. Dressed in a simple black suit with a pale green shirt and forest-green tie which made his emeralds sparkle in the artificial light, Arthur Kirkland looked stunning. When he noticed another presence in the room, he smiled at me, softly, gently. It managed to make my heart melt at the incredible warmth it emitted.

Speaking of warmth, my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Hey there babe." Wow, nice going Alfred. Are you sure that's the first thing that you want coming out of your mouth? If anything, my cheeks grew hotter at my crude inability to smooth talk.

Arthur, luckily, didn't seem to mind as his cheeks were dusted lightly with pink, making him look cute. "Yes, hello love. How have you been?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm doin' great!" Seriously, I was. Seeing Arthur, just seeing him was able to lift my spirits in a way no one else can.

"Are you sure, love?" Arthur slowly made his way to me, his own brown loafers clacking against the linoleum floor, footsteps echoing in the small room. My heart beat faster with each of his steps, anticipation building rapidly in the pit of my stomach.

A soft hand came up to cup my cheek, eyebrows of his were furrowed in worry. "You seem to have been beaten up quite badly. Have you treated this?" His deft fingers ghosted over my injured eye, the scars on my face.

I didn't want to see him like that. I didn't want to see his face full of worry and sadness for me. I wanted him to smile, to smile that warms smile which he always reserved for me. So I covered his hand with my own and presented him with my megawatt grin. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just got in a small scuffle with some of the guys here, no problemo~" In truth, it was to protect Arthur's pride. Would you stay back and do nothing if you lover was insulted as a fag?

He shot me a displeased glare at my dismissive answer. Arthur was like that. He cared and worried too much about me, he always does so until the pain I feel becomes his own. That's one of the reasons why hiding behind a smile works for me.

"Come on Arthur! You came here to dance with me right?" I snatched the mp3 player from his front pocket, making a beeline to the old radio in the corner. I picked a random song and scurried back to my lover. "Let's dance!"

Grabbing him by his slim waist (while effectively ignoring his rants and cute yelps of surprise), I pulled him to the middle of the room, sorry, _**dance floor**_. Arthur was absolutely flushed at my actions, his face a bright red and I laughed loudly, not caring who might hear us in the end.

"Alfred, you bloody git! Could you please stop spinning me around so quickly you wanker?!" shouted the Brit. I loved the way Arthur said my name. It sounds so British.

With a hand on his waist and the other on his arm, I abruptly dipped him, earning another yelp. "Alfred, I'm warning you..." he seethed through his delicious pink lips, fiery green eyes piercing my soul.

"Nope, not gonna stop Artie!" I pulled him up and spun him around in circles until we both felt dizzy and the tell-tale sign of a grin reached his lips.

He shook his head, feathery blond bangs swaying with his movements. "You always were an idiot... And don't bloody call me Artie!" His face looked so adorable when mad.

I smiled back at him and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Aren't I your idiot though?"

At that moment, Arthur blushed as red as one of Antonio's ripe tomatoes.I began to laugh, but was sealed off quickly by a full kiss, tongue and all. By the time we pulled back, we were both panting in need of air. "You'll forever be my one and only idiot, Alfred." said he before wiping off the connected saliva with his sleeve.

* * *

I forgot the time, so did he. We were dancing and laughing all through the night without a care in the world. The small, dingy room was suddenly thrust into full-blown happiness and unadulterated love when I held the smaller Briton in my arms, my best friend, my partner, my lover, my husband, my forever.

All good things will have to come to an end.

As it neared eight in the morning, Arthur turned his brilliant emeralds to me. "Alfred," he began but I cut him off with a nuzzle to his cheek. I knew what he was going to say, I knew that if I didn't stop it now he'd probably be reduced to a sobbing mess again.

We stopped moving completely and I held him close, close enough to exchange heartbeats. I kissed him on the forehead and my thumbs automatically rubbed away the tears that started to pool in green eyes. Even when crying, even when his face was distorted in sorrow, Arthur still looked beautiful.

So I told him exactly that. He ducked his head in embarrassment, something I've seen him do many times before. A brief kiss and another tear before comments of "You bloody idiot..." floated into my ears.

"Arthur, I'm sorry." I held his delicate face gently in my calloused hands, making sure he'd see that I truly was sincere. "That day,... what I did was wrong, I know that." I bit my lip. "I-I... Killing Ivan Braginski... I didn't do it on purpose, but I didn't really regret it." The images flooded into my mind, the blood, the shouts, the anger I felt inside me at how Ivan had hurt Arthur, the gleaming knife. Arthur must have sensed this, for he put a hand on my cheek, assuring me that everything was fine. "Arthur, you know I love you right?"

To be honest, I was prepared. I was prepared to face any insult or any hurt Arthur would jab into me, I was prepared for him shouting at me, crying at me, hitting me, even saying that he doesn't love me anymore. Thankfully, none of that came.

"Alfred, you git. What could ever make you think otherwise?"

That one sentence managed to make my heart soar, my whole being explode into a million pieces like the fireworks we used to gaze at on the fourth of July. On impulse, I pulled him in for another kiss, one that was long and bittersweet at the thought of parting. One which I poured all of my emotions into, one that I hoped he would cherish as I would.

We were both smiling idiots at the end, and I asked for one last dance. Arthur nodded his consent. I picked a song on the mp3 player and waited for it to connect to the radio.

"I'm kinda surprised you remembered to bring my mp3 Artie."

He shot me a dirty look."Don't call me Artie you twat." he spit. "And yes, I'm not as old as you think I am as to forget to bring your player. You mentioned it repeatedly before."

A bubble of laughter made it out of my throat just as the music played through the speakers of the radio.

Arthur's eyes widened terribly as he recognised the song. "This is..."

"_Give me a second I,_

_I need to get my story straight_

_My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State_

_My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar_

_My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking 'bout a scar, and_

_I know I gave it to you months ago_

_I know you're trying to forget_

_But between the drinks and subtle things_

_The holes in my apologies, you know_

_I'm trying hard to take it back_

_So if by the time the bar closes_

_And you feel like falling down_

_I'll carry you home"_

"Yep! Our song babe!" I snatched him to dance. "The very one in the bar!"

His trademark scowl made an appearance on his porcelain face. "Don't you think it to be horribly inappropriate, Alfred?"

I hummed in delight. "Not at all sweetie! This song represents you and me,' I pulled him flush to my chest, planting kisses all over his face and threading my fingers in his hair. "and I'm never letting us go!"

"Hey, Alfred?"

"Hm?"

Arthur quirked a brow at me. "Most prisoners have a lovely last meal of blueberry pancakes or hamburgers with fries. Not dancing with someone."

"Well Arthur," I lifted him into my arms and stared into the endless sparkling emeralds. "it just means I treasure you more than anything else."

As we danced to the song "We Are Young", the chorus buzzed in my ears.

"_Tonight_

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun!"_

* * *

Arthur petted his cat Camelot as comfort. His morning tea was set aside, left to go cold as he shed silent tears, his loud sobs he tried to control as much as he could. In the midst of a convulsing body, a cup of cold tea, a worried cat and a broken heart, lay that morning's newspapers.

**Convict Alfred F. Jones was executed on the charges of the murder of Ivan Braginski.**

* * *

**The end of another USUK fanfic. I hope you have enjoyed this one as well!  
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